“And I don’t want there to be an empty space where you’re supposed to be.”
My eyes filled.
“I don’t want her growing up without you because you and I couldn’t figure this out.”
“Emily…”
She looked directly at me.
“But I need you to be different.”
“I am.”
“I need you to prove it.”
That was fair.
“I know.”
I nodded.
“You can’t trust me because I say I’ve changed. You’ll have to see it in what I do.”
“Yes.”
“Will you let me try?”
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then she looked down at Rosalind.
“Yes.”
And she held the baby toward me.
It was such a small movement.
And it meant everything.
I carefully took Rosalind into my arms.
She was warm and astonishingly small.
I had held many newborns over the years.
Friends’ babies.
Relatives’ babies.
But holding Rosalind felt different.
I thought about the eight months I had missed.
I thought about David sitting through ultrasound appointments.
I thought about the words I had said two years earlier.
And I thought about how much easier it would be to keep being the person who justified those words rather than doing the painful work of becoming someone better.
I looked down at her.
“Hello, Rosalind.”
She stared past me with complete newborn indifference.
“I’m your great-aunt.”
My voice broke slightly.
“And I’m going to do better.”
Emily watched me carefully.
Not fully trusting yet.
But willing.
For now, that was enough.
After about ten minutes, I handed Rosalind back.
Then I stood.
“I should probably return to my room before my doctors discover their recovering surgery patient escaped into maternity.”
Emily almost smiled.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I followed David here.”
